A Rose by Any Other Name still Smells the Same
by DaSwampRat'sCherie
Summary: "What's that smell?" The hunter looked at him like he was a chick from some horror flick - that is: an idiot. "Chicken and rice. I just told you." "I know what *that* smell is," Dean snarked back. "I'm talking about that...flowery one." Teen!chester. Pre-series.


_**Disclaimer**_: If I owned the boys I can guarantee I wouldn't be wasting my talents on _fanfiction_, but would rather be using them to bring about what I need on the show itself. Geesh.

* * *

Dad had dropped them off at Bobby's. Usually being ditched while Dad went off on some _Die Hard_ hunt pissed him off (he could more than take care of himself, thank you very much- so could Sammy, though he might _want_ to stay behind. His little brother was so freaking weird.) But Dean didn't mind hanging out at Bobby's. For a crotchety old guy, he had been like a surrogate father to him. Besides - more importantly, _of course_ - he had a shitload of cars that needed to be fixed up, and Dean loved getting under the hood. He may not be good at much, but greasing up and making a wreck into a driveable vehicle was one of his fortes - he was like the frigging _car whisperer_ or something.

Sammy liked Bobby, too; and that's what really mattered, anyway.

_Look out for Sam_.

That was his job.

So when Dean had to traipse up the decrepit steps and knock on that familiar screen door once again, he was more than happy to do so.

He heard footsteps from inside - Sam would have too were he not so busy bitching about Dad dropping them off again. (The whiny teenage years hit his younger brother _hard_; _he _certainly hadn't been that snotty about _every freaking thing_.)

The boots paused directly in front of the door, before it was opened and the familiar rugged beard and grimy cap peered out at him.

"Thought I heard your daddy's car," The old hunter groused, sounding more annoyed than he looked as he opened the screen door. In fact, he looked almost happy to see them.

Dean flashed a cheeky grin, "Yeah, sorry for the short notice. I hope it's not too much trouble if me and Sammy crash here for a couple of days."

"Sammy and _I_," the geek beside him hissed, then added, "And don't call me _Sammy_."

Dean rolled his eyes, ushering the teen in front of him once Bobby had stepped back to make room for their entrance.

"You got it, Samantha."

"_Dee-ean!_" Sam wailed, turning and glaring obstinately at him. He just shrugged. He'd called him Sammy since he'd been born, screw the idea of suddenly saying "Sam" just because his royal highness had outgrown such "childish nicknames". ("Sammy's a chubby twelve year old. It's so immature." _Said the fourteen year old_.)

"You two boys better behave while you're here," Bobby grumbled, even as he reached down and pried the bag out of Sam's hands (who of course complained that he could do it himself.)

"Yes, Uncle Bobby," the twerp sighed in resignation, however, looking a little sheepish as he patted down his hair.

"Sure thing, Bobby," Dean affirmed, ruffling Sam's head just because he knew it would annoy him. And it did. He had to fight back a grin at the bitchface Sam gave him.

"Why don't you two head upstairs? I got some chicken and rice on the stove already; there should be enough." Bobby offered, gesturing vaguely to his little kitchen and subsequently the smells wafting from it.

"I got it, squirt; you just rest your little legs down here," Dean chided, reaching for the bag Bobby had grabbed.

"_I'll_ do it!" Sam protested, yanking all of their gear from whoever's hands were not his own, then huffing upstairs.

He chuckled quietly to himself, "Works every time."

At least there were _some_ perks to Sam's teenage...teenage-y-ness (so he wasn't Shakespeare, sue him).

Bobby rolled his eyes, but waved for him to follow him into the kitchen. A sarcastic comment about how he wasn't a dog to be beckoned at will settled onto his tongue, but before it could be let loose on the world, a sweet aroma drifted into Dean's nostrils, and he sniffed deeply (and perhaps a little gratuitously).

"What's that smell?"

The hunter looked at him like he was a blonde chick from some horror flick - that is: an idiot. "Chicken and rice. I just told you."

"I know what _that_ smell is," he snarked back. "I'm talking about that...flowery one."

Bobby looked affronted, his bushy eyebrows lurching together and squishing down his narrowing eyeballs, then replied, "Well there are some wild petunias growing somewhere out front. You _did_ pass them on the way in."

Well, _yeah_, he _did_. But - and though he'd kill anyone who dared to find out - he _knew_ what petunias smelled like, and this _wasn't_ petunias.

He didn't push it though. His machoism would surely be attacked were he to admit he knew a petunia's fragrance. So instead he simply shrugged,

"Guess that's all it is then."

Bobby eyed him carefully - like he was looking for some hint of deception for whatever weird-ass reason - then nodded in satisfaction and stalked into the kitchen.

Dean would have sworn the scent faded a bit, but a growly...growl (still not freaking Shakespeare) clawed its way through his stomach, and he deemed his hunger more important that the wonder-scent.

**:::**

Dinner was actually the best and most relaxing dinner he'd had in months (_years_). With Sam in "ultimate-teenage-bitch-mode" _all the time_, meals between the two had been pretty strained. Dean's cooking had been fine with Sam for all of his life, and then - suddenly - he had to criticize everything. It was a little draining, truth be told. And then when _Dad_ was actually there (which, yeah, didn't happen like ever), he and Sam were going at it like kernels of popcorn - battling to outdo the other and form first, and hitting whatever the hell was in the way during the process. (And by "in the way" he was, of course, referring to himself.)

But Sam liked Bobby - more than he did Dad, it seemed - and he relaxed around him which meant _Dean_ relaxed. Though the hunter pretended to be annoyed by their banter, he was pretty sure Bobby enjoyed it almost as much as he did. Who would have guessed he'd miss being _jokingly_ picked at so much?

The only problem was that _damned_ smell. It was driving him crazy. At least it was a pleasant odor - god knows he had smelled some of the most foul odors out there (kinda came with the hunting gig, but _seriously_. None of those zombie movies ever did the stench of the dead justice). But he couldn't figure out what it was.

He decided to humor Bobby, assume it was some wild flower growing somewhere near the house. But when he stood up to put his plate in the sink and leaned close to the window, the fragrance only abated. Had it been the flowers outside, it should have gotten stronger. Unless they were freaking sentient flowers - like Venus Flytraps (and those bastards _were_ sentient, contrary to popular belief). Maybe they were some mutated posies that could sense a human presence and retreated until they had the right moment to strike. (Because obviously mutated posies would be of the flesh-eating variety.)

But unless Pamela Isley - you know, the Poison Ivy to his Batman (and he was _totally_ Batman) - was lurking somewhere outside Bobby Singer's house, he decided he was letting his imagination running away with him and there was likely no mutated posies slinking along the walls.

At least he now determined it was coming from somewhere _inside_ the house. It was probably one of Bobby's many weird ingredients for his even weirder spells. (Honestly, who the _hell_ had a freaking fig leaf straight from Saudi Arabia, that was consecrated by a nun within the Sistine Chapel? And that was just a _weird_ one; he wasn't considering all of the _nasty _ones he had.)

Maybe it wouldn't have bothered him so much if it hadn't been so familiar. He _knew _he knew what it was, and that was making him even more bonkers.

When Sam wandered off to take stock of the newest additions in Bobby's occult library (_geek boy_), and Dean was washing the dishes (much to the owner's chagrin - the man had insisted on drying them), he decided to broach the subject again.

"So, Bobby, you sure that scent is just some wild flowers?"

There was a pause before the sarcastic answer. "And what else, pray tell, would it be?"

"I don't know. It's just so damn familiar and I don't smell it any closer to the win - "

He halted in speech. Because now it _was_ much stronger next to the window. Huh. It must have been the breeze earlier or something. (_Or the mutated posies are done biding their time and are going to devour you whole in less than a minute_.)

"What?" Bobby pressed, irritation in his query.

"Never mind. I just didn't smell it near the window earlier is all," Dean shrugged, wondering if he was going _Girl, Interrupted_ or what.

"Told you it was just those damn flowers. If it bothers you, go ahead and dig 'em up while you're here," the hunter groused, rubbing the plate dry more aggressively than strictly necessary.

"No, no. I don't mind, was just curious," he responded, that niggling desire to solve the mystery of the wonder-scent no more satiated. In fact, it was, if anything, even more desperate. Oh well. It was nothing to lose sleep over.

And he didn't. He slept like a baby, as it were, even _with_ Sam flopping between the sheets like a freaking fish every thirty seconds, sighing discontentedly and muttering about how "hard the mattress was" and how "hot it was" and yada yada _whatever_.

Maybe he'd have more right to complain when _he_ slept on the damn floor, thank you very much. Nonetheless, Dean got a fabulous night's sleep - that fragrance lurking in the back of that dream he had about making out with Platisha Madison, but not bothering him otherwise.

**:::**

The next morning, the mystery of the wonder-scent was at last solved. At frigging last.

Dean blearily crawled from between the blankets that compiled his makeshift bed. The sun hadn't been up too long, and though he loved nothing more than to sleep in, Dad had all but ingrained him in the need to get up before Sammy. ("You can't protect Sam if you're asleep.")

So he pushed himself to his feet, the sunlight assaulting his eyes like it had a personal vendetta against him that could only be fulfilled by freaking _blinding_ him. He scratched at his lids, rubbing his hands through his hair and making the tips stand on end in what Sammy always called Hedgehog Hair. Sam would have it to, if he weren't a freaking Nancy trying to grow out his hair like Rapunzel or whatever.

He shuffled across the floor - soundless even when half awake - made a grab for his duffle (which he missed on the first two tries) then made his way slowly to the bathroom.

As with most mornings, he had to relieve his bladder, and did so while he waited for the shower to heat up. After stripping the rest of the way, he stepped into the tub and leaned his forehead against the wall. He hadn't looked at the clock, but he still knew it was _too damned early_.

The shampoo of course burned his eyes and hurt like a mother (_tear-free, my ass_), and the body wash came out in a tidal wave he wasn't prepared for, splurging pink goo on more than just the washcloth.

Pink goo.

Huh.

He didn't think too much of it - he didn't think too much about _anything_ that close to the ass-crack of dawn - but his nose certainly made him contemplate its hue a little more.

Because that damned wonder-scent was _back_.

All right, seriously, what the hell? Did he have some ghost haunting him who brought the smell of - ?

Sweet Pea.

The label on the body wash read _Sweet frigging Pea_.

An amused grin broke out on his features, stretching his mouth out towards his ears and blinding - well, nothing was there to blind - with his brilliant teeth.

Because _Bobby Singer: Badass Extraordinaire _had freaking _Sweet Pea_ scented body wash.

He brought the substance in question closer to his nose for further inspection, and confirmation was achieved when he inhaled deeply.

This.

Oh, this was just too good.

Not only did Bobby have it, but he _smelled_ like it.

Dean grinned wider - it was a wonder his cheeks weren't broken - and hastened his shower, not even bothering to lather up. (He had no intention of walking around and spreading Sweet Pea in his wake, thanks so much.)

**:::**

Dean practically flew down the stairs, not bothering to be quiet because he knew Bobby was already up and didn't care if Sam _wasn't _up.

A perfunctory glance into the kitchen showed the old hunter wasn't in there, but with the turn of his head, he found him hunched over whatever ancient book in his study. He sauntered in, looking extra smug on purpose, and leaned casually against the door jam.

Bobby barely flickered his eyes upward, merely grunted what he supposed was a "good morning" even though it came out "g'm'nin'".

"Morning," Dean greeted cheerfully, his eyes twinkling. He wasn't the cat that ate the canary, he was the cat that ate the freaking _rooster_. (...Not that a cat could easily - _whatever_.)

It was several more beats before Bobby at last sighed and raised his gaze to stare at him.

"What?" The hunter gruffed, slamming the book shut with a soft _thwump _and staring at him expectantly.

He didn't respond. Not that he needed to - all he had to do was reveal the bottle of Sweet Pea body wash from behind his back and display it in front of him.

Bobby blushed - he freaking _blushed_ - the beet-red tint going down into his shirt and up into his ears, then stuttered over several words, before defending indignantly,

"I had a coupon!"

* * *

Sorry, I don't really know where this came from. I just have this personal head-canon that Bobby doesn't buy anything unless it's on sale and with a coupon - and will buy something he may not particularly enjoy _because_ it was on sale and with a coupon: hence, Sweet Pea body wash. I also see him sitting at the table and meticulously clipping coupons from the Sunday paper, haha

Kudos if you caught my subtle shout-out; Platisha Madison was the name of the character Danneel played alongside Jensen in the movie _Ten Inch Hero_ :)

I had Sam listed in the characters with this, but no matter what order I added them, _Sam_ came first - implying he was the star of the story when, in fact, he's really just mentioned. Does anyone know why this site won't cooperate and put the character listing in order? _  
_

Feeback of all kinds is absolutely adored: Favorites, follows and _reviews_:)


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